


Living Dead

by Auwynn



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gay Club AU, I blame Cathe and Marina & The Diamonds for this one shot, M/M, One Shot, Poledancer!Jean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-28
Updated: 2014-06-28
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auwynn/pseuds/Auwynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean pole dances at a gay bar, Marco doesn't know it. <br/>He almost wishes he had found out sooner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Living Dead

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rivaillin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivaillin/gifts).



> I totally blame Cathe for making me write this.  
> I decided to download the Marina & The Diamonds discography, and after listening to [Living Dead](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CCELnFwUVXE) a couple times, all I could see were floating images of poledancer!Jean. Here goes nothing.
> 
> Marco might not be accurate but then again we never had drunk or tipsy Marco in the anime nor in the manga, so I just went with the mood~
> 
> ps. Giving Reiner all the funny lines and random jokes is so fun, you have no idea.

Something at the back of my mind told me to just take the curb in my car and stop wherever I felt like, so I ended up in front of this dance club, _Night of the Dancing Dead_ I think was the name. Not that catchy, I honestly don’t know how I managed to remember it, since I only stood on the sidewalk - for what, 2 seconds?, before my feet kind of drove me inside.

The place looked pretty generic for a night club. Lots of pink neon and strobe lights inside though, _way too much pink_. And there were only men - half-naked studs in _very_ tight tuxedo pants and suspenders that really did nothing to hide their nipples, mind you -, and I couldn’t find any waitress at all.

Yeah, I think I just dived right into a gay club.

“It’s no use lying to yourself, Marco, you know you like men, there’s no shame in admitting that. You’re just stressed because you’ve never been to a gay night club before, okay?” I whispered to myself, trying to calm my heart down. Some waiters walked past me and gave me weird looks; I must have looked really nuts talking to myself smack dab in the center of the lobby of a gay night club, but I can’t really help the anxiety and fear of someone from work finding me here. Wouldn’t that also be terribly embarrassing for them too? I mean it’s reciprocal… ugh, point is, I can’t relax after making such a whimsical decision. At least not until I down a few beers. Maybe a few whiskey shots too.

One of the waiters, a really muscly and tall guy, came up to me with a perfectly straight and white Hollywood smile and offered to take my jacket off me. Too stressed out and nervous to think, I just handed it to him and let him guide me to the stage.

“First gay bar, huh? Don’t worry about it, this place is so far off the city center, no one you know will find you here,” he said with a wink. “Unless they also swing for the clackers and flute.” That last sentence left me choking on my breath, blood pumping up to my cheeks at the speed of light.

“Name’s Reiner by the way,” he said, patting me on the back. He had a really strong grip, and smelled very strongly of Old Spice. He looked just the kind of guy who could pull it off, actually. “My… I’m Marco,” I replied, not without a little hesitation. My voice came out kind of hoarse, that’s only natural, I didn’t actually _talk_ to anyone all day.

“Wow, dude you really need a drink or two so you can loosen up. Come on, it’s Friday! You don’t work tomorrow, right? Here, the drinks are on me tonight.” Reiner left my side and _jumped_ over the counter to grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and a few shot glasses. I hadn’t noticed just how close he was to me until I felt kind of a void at my side. “If you’re the closet-gay kind of guy, believe me this stuff will make you shoot rainbows out of your ass until you pass out!” He nearly screamed the last few words even though I was less than a few millimeters away from the counter. That brought something to my attention: for a club, the dance floor was very silent despite all the people chatting and laughing their hearts out. There was no music blasting out of the giant speakers on either side of the stage and a little around the entire room. Once my eyes toured the walls, I landed them back on the counter, only to find Reiner grinning at me and filling up the 7 th shot glass. “What the hell, do you really expect me to drink all of this?!”

“Of course! You need to _relax_ , this is a night club: all around you are really hot guys but you’re too sober to enjoy that to the fullest. You know what? Let’s just do this: down a shot for every guy you see that tickles your pickle, okay?” He offered another full smile, however this one had something different about it. I would waste my time trying to discern what it was, but I just decided to go along with his game. I turned around and rested one of my elbows on the counter, scanning the room almost reluctantly. To my dismay, and at my liver’s expense, I drank the first shot, then the second, then the third… Only at my 10th shot did Reiner decide to stop pouring and put the glasses away. I had to take my button-up shirt off because at this point, I was sweating gallons because of the alcohol, as gross as that sounds. “Do you mind keeping this for me? I can’t stand the heat anymore. Thank fuck I actually had something to eat before coming here.”

I wasn’t quite aware of the words coming out of my mouth, but I could see Reiner’s satisfied smirk, although he looked a tad surprised. “Damn, you really get out of the box when you’re tipsy,” he said as he tucked my shirt under the counter. “And you’ve got some really nice muscles, too. For someone with such a cute face, that’s pretty surprising.” I don’t know if he was flirting or genuinely complimenting me, but my mouth just smirked on its own and spat out a ‘thank you’ in a voice so lewd and husky I thought I wasn’t myself anymore. He kept on patting my arm and pulling on the hem of my T-shirt for a while before distancing himself a little.

“I got a question though: how come the club is so silent? I’d expect a lot more people on a Friday night.”

“Well, it’s only 9:47 p.m., the show doesn’t actually start until 10.”

“What show?”

Reiner rested his elbows and forearms, and just gave me a huge crooked smile. “Oh boy, so this is what it feels like initiating a gay baby, huh? Trust me, tonight’s show will turn you into a regular.”

“Huh, why? What’s so special about tonight?”

“The theme is _diamonds_. Expect a lot of shiny trunks, glitter-covered studs and Marina and the Diamonds songs.”

“Marina and the _Diamonds_. Really?”

“Yeah, I know, some of these guys are really corny, but I’ve seen one of Jean’s rehearsals. He dances to a Marina song and, _trust me_ , he will make you feel tight, oh so tight.” He looked up and smiled with a sigh, probably recalling whatever he saw during the said rehearsal. “Just watch out for Edward Cullen tonight!” I left the counter with a scoff soon as Reiner had to deal with arriving customers, and went to sit at one of the few tables near the stage. Luckily, it wasn’t crammed with people yet, but the speakers had started to play some house music, so the few guys (and a handful girls too) that came early started dancing to the beat.

 _Jean_ , huh? I know a guy from work called Jean. Well, we actually went to college together and graduated together. Damn, sorry, let me rephrase it. He’s actually my best friend, yeah. College brought us close to each other, so close that we even decided to work at the same place. Weirdly enough, it only made us drift away from each other. He was in the Marketing department and I worked in HR, and our offices were a couple floors away so we only really managed to have lunch outside together most days when he wasn’t busy with a huge client.

I sort of developed something akin to a crush on him when were in college. I thought it might just pass and wither with time, but it didn’t. He certainly was socially _volcanic_ , to say the least about his tendency to snap at people who scoffed at him for things he liked. Well, he _was_ certainly a very corny type of guy, the stereotypical sports jock who not-so-stereotypically liked reading and homemade food. He always babbled about how he wanted to have a cute wife who would cook him lasagna – his favorite dish –, and next to whom he would wind down his day with a glass of wine and a book.

You’d think him going on and on about that kind of life would have discouraged me and made me kill the feelings I had for him, but it didn’t. His dream life was exactly the kind of coziness I wanted with him. But I couldn’t have it, nor him, so I just buried that thought at the back of my mind, little by little, day after day.

I must have spent a lot of time thinking about all of that, because the show had already started. The lights had dimmed and a spotlight was focused on the center of the stage. The first guy to strip-dance – and I think the presenter said he was bi? – had really shiny trunks and studded grey boots. He was cute but his dancing was a little too much. He probably had a lot of the _straight guy gene_ in him because he just kept on humping the air throughout his song. Not that I have anything against that but that’s just not my type.

The second guy was only wearing a jockstrap and had painted diamonds on his ass cheeks. Not quite the most inventive idea, but he looked kind of goody and, to be honest, stupid, so that’ll pass. The whiskey shots did a great job at getting me out of my character because I’m pretty sure I would have _never_ said anything like that about anyone if I was still sober.

Not really minding it though.

“And now comes _the_ awaited show, our favorite since he joined us last year: Jean K.!”

_What?_

Did he just say _Jean K._? As in _Jean Kirschtein_?!

“That couldn’t possibly be him, what the fuck?!” I said with a nervous laugh. I almost snapped my neck because of how fast my head turned from looking at my watch to jumping towards the stage. My heart started pounding its way out of my ribcage, as I watched _him_ walk up to the center of the platform.

He was covered in black, sparkly paint from head to toe, wearing only a pair of _very tight_ black boxers. His blonde hair and hazel eyes really stood out because of the paint. So did his abs, _especially_ his abs. I couldn’t care less at the moment but I’m pretty sure my mouth dropped open at the sight and I looked pretty ridiculous. He was _gorgeous_ , and even that isn’t enough to describe what he looked like.

A god dipped in glittery black paint, that’s what he looked like. He walked to the pole that I only noticed was on the stage when he held on to it with his hands, black shiny charcoal on the cold aluminum. The song started – _Living Dead_ by Marina, Reiner wasn’t lying about the corniness – and he went on with his show. Climbing the pole, spinning around it, dancing to the song… every single one of his moves stretched and creased his muscles so harmoniously it was actually divine. I hadn’t known him to be this flexible, nor particularly strong, but he managed to make every move look _easy_. He leaped around the pole as if a gust of wind had pushed him forward, spun down towards the floor and hitting every beat of the song perfectly at each spin.

It was the most beautiful sight I had ever witnessed before. It felt like rediscovering Jean. I had never known this side of him, never thought he would one day end up pole dancing at _the_ gay bar I would randomly enter on a whim on a Friday night after a stressful work week. It all made sense in my head. He probably consecrated all of his free time to training, and that’s why never had time to hang out with me the past two years.

That kind of hurt.

 _I_ wanted to be important enough to him that he’d give up all of his free time for me, not for pole dancing. All this time I thought he had just forgotten about me and hung out with other people. And what’s the deal with being at a gay bar?! I thought he was straight. He couldn’t possibly have chosen this place by constraint, he had good looks that could get him anywhere. And he didn’t need a part time job either, he was well-off with a designer apartment and a Porsche, why in fucking hell would he—

Suddenly it all made sense. Sure, I’m not trying to stereotype anything or anyone but… the excessive shit-talk about having a wife and kids while on the other hand he never flirted with any girls at all, his near-obsession with his body image… of course he was gay and I’ve had it under my nose all these years without realizing it. God, I’m such an idiot.

His show should have continued to blow my mind, but I couldn’t just smile it away, no. I held myself back all these years, pushed myself to hate him just to try and get over him but none of it worked. And he was just there, at reach, actually playing for the same team and I had to go through all of this bullshit by drinking myself unconscious on weekends? I was nice all the time but it was becoming too much to handle. And it’s probably the alcohol but I couldn’t really give a damn about that.

Once the song was over, he saluted the crowd, waving at the spectators whom only clapped and whistled even louder. I walked up to the stairs on the side of the stage and waited for him to get down. I bet he wasn’t expecting me to be there, in the crowd, watching him dance and remorsefully spinning thoughts inside my mind.

“Jean.”

That one word was enough. He froze solid on the before last step, looking at me with wide eyes. “M…Marco? How—What are you doing here?!” His voice went at least three octaves higher because of the surprise of seeing me, scowling and crossing my arms on my chest. I just couldn’t take it anymore. His face angered me so much, as much as I hated to admit – at that moment – that I was glad I could see him so up-close.

“What the fuck was that just now? _You_ , at a _gay bar_? _Pole-dancing_?! What the _fuck_ , Jean?!” I exploded, actually relishing the surprise on his face. It was probably the first time I ever cussed in front of him, but on my end, he kind of deserved it. “Huh? Well what about _you_? What the fuck are _you_ doing at a god damned gay dance club on a Friday night?”

I spotted Reiner walking up to us with a water bottle, probably for Jean. He was about to talk but I had to stop him. “I’m sorry but, is there anywhere quiet and empty here?” Caught off guard by the question, he stuttered a few syllables and pointed at a door behind the counter. “Pantry.”

I managed a half-angry half-embarrassed smile at him as I yanked the bottle from his hand and dragged Jean by the hand towards the door. “Okay, now do you mind telling me what you’re so angry about? I’m getting worried that you might have been abducted by—“

“Jean! Do you not get it?” I screamed. “What else would I be doing at a gay bar _other_ than enjoying myself and checking out other guys? You’ve probably _and_ most likely never known but I’ve had the biggest crush on you for _years_ but I couldn’t talk shit about it because I didn’t want to ruin our friendship. What with you going _on_ and _on_ and _on_ about how you always dreamed of marrying a trophy-wife, I couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out or tell you how much I liked you. And now you show up at a gay bar, all covered in paint, glowing like a god damned Twilight vampire? It can’t just be because you need a part time job, is it?”

That gave the last stab. He feigned to look hurt, squeezing his fists tight. “Marco… I… ugh, yes I’m gay, happy? All that talk about marrying a woman… that was just a façade, I didn’t want anyone to find out I like men, my life would have been ruined!”

“Oh, because working as a Friday night pole dancer _here_ is definitely going to keep your identity secret?” I scoffed, shoving my free hand down my pocket.

“Dancing here makes me happy, okay? I forget about work, about projects and clients, about everything… it makes living alone easier, you know.” He scratched the nape of his neck, avoiding my eyes the best he could. “But… but you said you had a crush on me? S-since when?”

“Since I… no forget it, I’ve hurt myself with this for long enough, I don’t want it to add up to all the alcohol I had.” I turned around to leave the kitchen, stepping on the threshold when I remembered I still had his water bottle with me. I hesitated a little, then turned around to hand him the bottle. “Here, I forgot I had your—“

Jean pulled me over to him and locked our lips in a kiss. The door slowly locked behind us, deafening the music and whistles of the crowd. I couldn’t really believe this was happening. Why did he do this? I tried to break the kiss but he just kept going, stopping eventually to catch a breath. I didn’t stop him, I wanted to but I couldn’t. Part of me just wanted to savor the kiss, because it felt like a once-in-forever thing. “Don’t, just don’t talk. Yes, I like you too. I don’t want to talk about it. Right now, I just want to kiss you.”

I didn’t want to object to that. We had all weekend to talk about it. I didn’t have the heart to refuse that, as angry as I was with him.

It probably reflected in how violently I pushed him against the wall, and carried him to the table. I breathed hard and fast, nails digging into his thighs, scraping the paint off of his skin. He had his arms all around me, sometimes around my neck, sometimes trailing down my chest, leaving traces of black on my white shirt.

Talking could definitely wait, we had 8 years of catching up to do.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a [video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fgv8VtsqnjI) that inspired the pole dancing scene (badly described, mind you).  
> And here's [another one](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=w9gkt_GP4uw) because this guy has a gorgeous ass.


End file.
